Between Friends
by mcatB
Summary: Trent's refusal to listen to Carlos could ruin their friendship


Between Friends

By Mady Bay - mbay@binghamton.edu

August 4, 2001

Disclaimer - Nope, I don't own most of these characters. CBS does. I just use them and abuse them at will. No profit here. T'would be nice, though...

Between Friends

"What is your problem, man?"

"My problem, is that I'm worried about you, Trent," Carlos replied, pacing the floor of the dojo. "I've told you all about Stevie and yet you still won't listen to me!"

"That was past history, Carlos. When you knew Stevie, you were still a cop. You said you were a rookie, then. So that was over five years ago. People change," Trent reasoned. "Just look at me. Remember where I was just a little over five years ago?"

"That's different, Trent. You were only twenty. You -"

"And Stevie is only twenty-three. Not that much older than me when I was lost."

"There's the difference, Trent," Carlos shot back. "Stevie knows _exactly_ what kind of trouble she got into. She has _never_ been lost. Not since I've known her."

"Well, I guess that's the difference between us, Carlos," Trent began. "You're always going to be a cop. Always going to see the worst in people."

"That's how cops survive," Carlos interrupted.

"Well, I prefer to see the best in people, give them the chance that they need to set their lives on the right path."

Carlos sighed in frustration. He'd had this conversation with his best friend so many times that he could probably do it in his sleep. And it always ended the same way. With him saving Trent's ass before he got hurt. Well, fine. If Saint Trent wanted to go save the world, starting with former prostitute, drug dealer, petty thief and conwoman Stephanie "Stevie" Callahan, then he wasn't going to stand in the way this time.

"Fine, Trent. Do what you want," Carlos finally relented. "Play Dr. Doolittle, try to make Stevie into a respectable citizen. Marry her if you want. I won't stand in your way. Hell, I won't even say I told you so when the time comes."

And with that said, Carlos picked up his gym bag and headed for the doors, ignoring Trent's remarks about some people named Henry Higgins and Eliza Doolittle. He opened up the door, only to find the woman in question just about to walk in. He stopped and held the door open to let her in, but just before she walked by, he stopped her and in a low voice said, "If you hurt a hair on his head, I swear, you will learn an entirely new meaning to the word, pain." 

Stevie met his gaze, saw the seriousness in his eyes and nodded her head. Then, as Carlos started to walk away, she grabbed his arm and replied, "Trent's a big boy. I think he can take care of himself."

*****

Despite his earlier thoughts, Carlos couldn't help stopping by the Police Station, needing to check up on Stevie's latest activities. According to Trent, she had told him about her past right away, when she'd signed up for Karate classes. She was hoping, so she said, to start fresh in life. She supposedly had a legitimate job and everything. Carlos didn't believe her for a minute. He had to find out what she was up to. Who she was working for. Who had it in for Trent.

He had made it upstairs, and snuck down two hallways, getting as far as the Records Department, and was about to walk in when Detective Ryan saw him.

"Sandoval! You are not authorized to be back here. This is for _police_ personnel only," he sneered. "And last I knew, you resigned from the department a couple of months ago."

"Look, Ryan," Carlos began.

"Don't _'Look, Ryan,'_ me, Sandoval," Ryan mocked. "If you don't get out of here right now, I'll have you arrested for Criminal Trespassing!"

Carlos looked around, saw some other officers there. Ones he did not know. He sighed and walked toward the exit, not looking back. _Fine. Time to call in some favors._

*****

Trent was having the time of his life. Stevie was an excellent student. The best in his afternoon class. Attentive, strong, eager... Somewhere in her past, before she was forced to live on the streets, she must have had lessons, he thought. _She's also very attractive_, he added with a smile.

He tried not to be mad at Carlos. He was just trying to protect him. Trying to do what he thought was right. But he could take care of himself. _Hell, I was in the Army! I have a black belt in Karate. I'm a Master Instructor. I'm also the son of a preacher. I practically grew up helping people. I can handle myself, and Ms. Stevie Callahan, just fine. Without Carlos's interference and negative thoughts. I wish Carlos could stop being such a cop sometimes. Especially now that he wasn't one, anymore._

"Ready, Trent?" Stevie called, exiting the women's locker room, interrupting his thoughts.

"Sure, Stevie. Let me just turn out the lights and lock the place up."

"You sure you don't mind giving me a ride home? I could take a cab," she said.

"Not at all, Stevie. Your place is right on my way home. Wouldn't want you to waste your money on cab fare," he replied.

"That way I can make some dinner for you, too. If you'd like?"

"Sounds good, Stevie," he replied.

*****

Carlos did a little investigating on his own, checking out Stevie's apartment building, talking with her landlord, checking with her neighbors to see who she might have had for visitors. He watched her as she worked at the local Dunkin' Donuts shop. He talked to her boss and coworkers. 

Carlos couldn't decide if he was happy or disappointed. Everything looked legit. Stevie was a wonderful tenant. She paid the rent on time. She was courteous to her neighbors. Never had loud parties. Didn't associate with the wrong crowd... She was a model employee. She showed up early, stayed late. Did her job without complaint. She was a favorite among the customers. Made a damn good pot of coffee... 

He had absolutely no reason not to believe she was getting her life back on the right track. He had no reason to doubt Trent's good intentions, to let Trent have some happiness in his relationship with this woman. And damn, he hated being wrong! But was he? There was still that cop instinct in him, telling him not to believe any of his findings. That there _must_ be more to Stevie Callahan than he was being shown.

He would not give in. He would continue to watch Ms. Stevie Callahan closely. He would never forgive himself if Trent got hurt because he ignored his instincts.

*****

"Kim, will you please tell Mr. Malloy that I'm going to stake out the Kowalski house? According to Mr. Kowalski, Mrs. Kowalski might be receiving some visitors today."

Kim looked from Carlos to Trent and before she could say anything, Trent replied, "Kim, you can tell Mr. Sandoval that he is more than welcome to go stake out the Kowalski house as long as he uses his own camera, because the last time he used mine, he lost the lens cap and broke the tripod."

Kim again looked back and forth between the two of them, not saying a word yet. She was completely frustrated with the two men. Or, _boys_, as she thought better described them. For the past two weeks, they had been avoiding each other, keeping odd hours at the office in order to avoid sharing it. Or when they happened to be there at the same time, like today, it was always tension filled. And she got stuck as the middle man. _Well, no more_, she thought.

"ENOUGH!" she shouted. "Will you two grow up, already? I mean, come on, what the heck is going on?"

"Oh, the usual," Carlos replied first. "Trent won't listen to my advice."

"Maybe because I'm a big boy now and don't need to listen to your advice. And besides, Stevie is a changed woman. She's not like you think she is."

"She's snowing you, Trent! She's using you and sooner or later, you're gonna find out the hard way!"

"For what purpose?! It's not like I'm some rich guy she's gonna try to steal money from! Maybe you're just jealous because I've got someone to care about and cares about me instead of having to rely on drunken one night stands for a love life like you do!"

Kim saw where this was heading and quickly stepped between the two arguing men.

"STOP IT! Stop it, right now!" she shouted. "You, Carlos - get your camera and stuff and get to the Kowalski's house. You, Trent - get to the Karate studio, your class starts in half an hour," she ordered. "And don't even think about raising your voices in here again, or I swear I'm going to quit and wipe out all the computer files before I do!"

Carlos and Trent looked at Kim then, saw the complete seriousness in her eyes, and then measured each other up. Before they could say another word, Kim raised her finger and ordered them, "Out!"

They obeyed without another word.

*****

Carlos sat in his truck, a bored expression on his face as he watched the Kowalski house. Mr. Jack Kowalski had hired them to keep an eye on his wife, whom he believed to be cheating on him while he was at work. The man had tried on several occasions to surprise his wife by coming home early or not even going to work at all, but his efforts were fruitless. He believed his wife might have been getting tipped off to his whereabouts. Finally, after an hour of waiting, he watched as a white Jaguar pulled into the driveway. He snapped a few pictures of the car, making sure to get the license plate in one of them. Then he got pictures of the woman exiting the vehicle. _Woman? _he thought. Mrs. Kowalski then came out and greeted the visitor with a warm hug. They exchanged pecks on the cheeks before entering the house arm in arm. _Hmmm...this could be interesting..._ He refocused the camera and zoomed in so he could track their movements through the house's windows. He watched them go into the dining room and take out some papers.

*****

Kim looked about the office once more before she locked up. All the paperwork was done, the answering machine was on, the coffee maker was off... She'd arranged to take the afternoon off to visit with some out of town friends in for the weekend. The boys could live without her for a day. She hoped.

*****

Trent finished up with his class, bowing to his students. It had been a good session with lots of good progress made by some of his students. One woman that had been having problems with her coordination seemed to have finally gotten the knack of combination kicks. The extra time he'd spent with her had paid off. The only thing missing from this session was Stevie.

He'd called her apartment and left a message. He didn't think she'd had to work. Last night at her apartment she'd said she'd had the early morning shift at the Dunkin Donuts she worked at. So she would have had plenty of time to have gotten out of work and gotten to class. In fact, he realized, she would have had almost three hours between work and class.

He was just about to head for the locker room when the phone rang.

"Thunder Karate," he answered.

__

"Trent?"

"Stevie? What's wrong? What happened?" he asked, frantic. He heard the tears and pain in her voice.

__

"I didn't do anything! I promise! But they were waiting for me after work. They arrested me!"

"Where are you, Stevie?"

__

"I'm at the Downtown Precinct. Oh, God, Trent, they hurt me!"

"What?!! Stay there, Stevie, I'll be right there!"

*****

Trent arrived at the police station and found Stevie out front, sitting on the steps, crying. He jumped out of the Corvette and ran to her.

"Stevie? You okay?" he asked, concerned. He pulled her hands down from her face and gasped. "Oh, God, Stevie! What happened? Who did this to you?" he asked, looking at the bruises on her face and her disheveled clothing.

"The cops," she replied. "I was leaving work and I heard someone mention my name. I looked up and two cops grabbed me and shoved me against the police car. I saw them put a plastic baggie into my purse and then they dumped it onto the hood, saying the baggie was mine. I tried to argue with them, tell them that it wasn't mine, that I'd seen them plant it, but they just hit me, telling me to shut up!" She grabbed onto Trent's shirt then and cried into his chest. "I didn't know what to do!"

"Ssshh... It'll be alright," he soothed. "Come on, let's go in and make a complaint. They had no right to hurt you like this." 

He gently took her hand and helped her to her feet. She doubled over as she grabbed her ribs and cried out.

"Stevie!" he cried, grabbing her before she could fall. "Come on, you've got to go to the hospital first. Then we'll make the complaint," he said, helping her over to and into the Corvette.

"Trent," she whispered just before he started the car. "There's something else I have to tell you."

Trent looked over at Stevie. He saw fear in her eyes, as if she didn't really wanted to tell him. 

"It's okay, Stevie. You can tell me anything. You know that," he said, reassuring her.

"Those cops. The ones that hurt me. I heard them mention Carlos's name," she began. "One of them said, 

'Sandoval only wanted her arrested, not roughed up,' and the other said that he 'didn't think it would matter,' that 'Carlos would still be happy.' I thought he was your friend, Trent."

"So did I. So did I."

*****

Carlos returned to the office after dropping the film off at the one hour photo shop. He'd watched the Kowalski house and the two women in it for two hours. And watched them do nothing else except look at papers and make phone calls and stuff envelopes. Ten minutes after the woman in the Jaguar left, Mr. Kowalski came home. As of right now, he had nothing suspicious to report. No torrid affair. No sex. Nothing.

Typing up the notes on his observations and saving them on the computer took less than ten minutes. He looked around the small office and sighed. How much longer would he be able to work here? It wouldn't be long if he and Trent kept fighting like they had. _Kim would shoot us first_, he thought. _Maybe I just should have stayed with the Police Department. No, that isn't the answer. Until two weeks ago, I'd been happy working with Trent_. _Maybe it's time to bury the hatchet. Apologize to Trent and give Stevie the benefit of the doubt. Yeah, that's the ticket._

That was the last thought Carlos had before all hell broke loose.

He reached for his gun, startled as the front door to the office was viciously kicked in. He was even more startled to realize whom it was that had kicked the door in.

"Trent? Man, what's going on?" he managed to ask, just before Trent's right fist connected with his jaw.

"What's going on?!" Trent exclaimed, grabbing Carlos by his shirt collar before he had a chance to fall. He hit him again, this time in his abdomen. "What's going on?!" he repeated.

"Trent?" Carlos pled, wondering what had gotten into his best friend. He'd barely been able to withstand the first punch and only Trent's hand on his shirt was keeping him upright now. "'Mano..."

"Don't you fucking _''Mano'_ me, Carlos!" Trent shouted, pushing Carlos away from him, into the inner office. "How could you do it? How?"

"Do what? What's going on?" Carlos gasped, trying to understand what was happening.

"I can't believe you would do it! That you'd stoop so low! Just to try to be so fucking right!" And with those words, Trent launched himself at his best friend, arms and legs flying, hitting Carlos's flesh with practiced accuracy. 

Carlos did his best to defend himself without fighting back. He couldn't bring himself to fight with Trent, no matter what the circumstance. And he still had no idea about what Trent was talking about, mad about. 

"Trent!" he shouted out, gasping as he felt another of his ribs break. He was on the floor now, lying on his side, panting, gasping for air when he saw the blonde's foot heading for his knee. "Trent, please!" He screamed as he felt his knee tear apart. 

*****

Butch got out of his truck and headed toward Uppercuts' main door. He wasn't actually looking forward to tending the bar tonight. It was Monday night, football night. And while that meant the bar would be especially profitable, it also meant that there was more potential for fights. Good thing he had some extra help available in the office upstairs.

Thinking of the two young men that rented the office space from him, he glanced over to the stairs that led to Thunder Investigations. He saw that the door was open. Open and broken, he realized. Looking around first, he cautiously headed for the stairs. Peeking in, he saw the ransacked condition of the outer office. It looked like there had been a fight. 

"Trent? Carlos?" he called quietly. "Kim?" He hoped she hadn't been there...

Seeing no one in the outer office, Butch moved in toward the inner office.

"Oh, Jesus," he murmured, seeing Carlos lying on the floor. "Carlos?" he called, moving to kneel next to him. He didn't need to feel for a pulse, he heard the painful, raspy breaths coming from the beaten man. 

Butch quickly grabbed the phone off the desk and called 911.

"Trent?" Carlos whispered.

"Sssh, easy now, son," Butch soothed, placing a gentle hand on Carlos's head before speaking with the 911 dispatcher.

"Trent?" Carlos whispered again, only to begin coughing violently. 

He cried out as his ribs protested. Butch held onto him, hoping to keep him as still as possible. 

"Who did this, Carlos?" he asked. 

"Trent?"

*****

"Butch?"

Butch looked up to see Ranger Cordell Walker heading his way. 

"How is he?"

"I don't know," Butch replied. "No one's come out yet. You have any idea who did this to Carlos?"

"No, not yet," Walker said with a sigh, taking a seat next to Butch. "It's kind of confusing. You said Carlos had his gun in his hand when you found him, right?"

"Yeah, I took it out of his hand, unloaded it and put it on his desk," Butch replied.

"But it hadn't been fired." Walker said it as a statement of fact.

"No. You'd think that he would have defended himself with it rather than let himself get beat up so bad."

"Which means there must have been a reason why he didn't shoot his attacker," Walker reasoned. "Have you had any luck getting a hold of Trent and Kim?"

"Kim's on her way here," Butch answered. "Trent isn't answerin' his phones - cell, home or Karate studio. You think someone has him, maybe held him while Carlos got beat? That that's why he didn't shoot?"

"It's a possibility," Walker replied, nodding his head. "But I would think that they would have taken Carlos's gun, first. That's what doesn't make sense."

A young woman wearing scrubs interrupted the two men.

"Ranger? You here for Carlos Sandoval?" she asked.

"Yes, how is he?" Walker and Butch both replied.

"I'm Doctor Chapple," she said, shaking their hands. "As you know, Mr. Sandoval took quite a beating. In addition to the numerous bruises, he's sustained a couple of broken ribs, a dislocated knee and some internal injuries. We're taking him up to surgery now, to stop the bleeding. Are you his father?" she directed to Butch.

"No, I'm just a close friend. We're tryin' to locate his family," Butch replied.

The doctor nodded, before telling them, "You can all wait in the surgical waiting area on the third floor. It'll probably be a few hours, though, before they're through." 

*****

Trent returned to Stevie's apartment, where he'd left her. The doctors at the emergency room had given her some potent pain medications and recommended bed rest for the next few days to heal her injuries. Trent had insisted he stay with her, so that he could take care of her. He had tried to persuade her to talk to the police, to file a complaint against the officers that had hurt her. And against Carlos. But she stated that she was too distraught and upset to think about it. That she just wanted to go home. It was after she was safely tucked into bed that he had sought out his former friend. Hand on the doorknob to the apartment, Trent stopped and bowed his head, remembering in a blurry sort of haze what he had done. _But it was no worse than framing an innocent woman and beating her. An innocent woman!_ He opened the door and walked in quietly, dropping his keys onto the end table next to the couch. He walked through the apartment and headed to the bedroom, thinking that Stevie should be waking up soon, that her pain meds should be wearing off. He watched as she blinked up wearily at him.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" he asked.

"Like shit," she answered honestly. 

"Here, have another of these," he said, shaking out one of the pain pills from a bottle that was on the nightstand. "It'll make you feel better."

"Thanks, Trent," she said, taking the pill and drinking it down with some water. "For everything."

"It's no trouble, really."

"I'm sorry."

"You've got nothing to be sorry about, Stevie. Nothing."

"But if it wasn't for me, then you and Carlos would still be friends. I didn't want to come between you," she sobbed.

"That's nothing for you to worry about," he assured her. "It's all over now. If he couldn't see past his own prejudices to give you a fair shot, then he wasn't my friend."

He gently pushed her back onto the pillows and tucked her in, giving her a kiss.

"Go back to sleep now," he soothed.

Walking back into the living room, he saw the light flashing on his answering machine and ignored it. It wasn't his machine, anyway. He grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator and settled down onto the couch. _He's not my friend. Not anymore._

*****

"Mr. McMann?"

Butch and Kim stood up and met the doctor in the middle of the waiting room. "How's Carlos?" they asked simultaneously.

"He made it through the surgery just fine," he stated and waited for the sighs of relief to stop before he continued. "One of the broken ribs slashed through some chest muscle and small blood vessels and the resulting blood pooling put some pressure on his lung, but he's breathing on his own and that shouldn't cause any permanent damage."

"I sense a 'but' coming," Kim said with some trepidation.

"Yes," the doctor agreed. "His left kidney was also damaged. Bruised pretty badly. He'll probably have some blood coming out of it for the next few days. We're hoping that it'll heal itself, but only time will tell."

"And if it doesn't?" Kim asked.

"Hopefully it won't come to that, but worse case scenario is that he'll lose it," the doctor replied frankly.

"Anything else?" Butch asked.

"I believe the orthopedic surgeon will do a consult tomorrow sometime, once he's more stable. From what I saw, his left knee looked pretty banged up, too."

"Can we see him?" Kim asked.

"Maybe a little later, when he's settled up in ICU."

"Thanks, Doc," Butch said, shaking his hand, seeing that there wasn't more to say.

When they were alone again, Kim began to pace. "I still can't believe this happened. And where is Trent? God, I hope he's alright! What if the people who did this took him? What are we gonna do?"

"Kim, we've been through this already. Ranger Walker is gonna find Trent and the people who hurt Carlos."

"I _knew_ I shouldn't have taken the afternoon off!"

"Kim," Butch began, gently grabbing her arms, stopping her pacing. "If you had been there, you might have been hurt, or taken, too."

Kim just nodded before letting herself be embraced by Butch's strong arms. "They're gonna be okay, Kim. They will."

*****

"Trent, I've got to go to work. If I don't show up, I'll get fired," Stevie argued.

"Stevie, you can barely stand up straight! I'm sure your boss will understand if you miss one day of work," Trent argued right back. "Besides, we still have to go to the police station to file that complaint."

"I don't want to, Trent! The deck is stacked against me! You know that," she said. "They are _not_ going to believe me. If they don't know who I am on sight, then my record will show them who I was. They aren't going to believe a former prostitute and drug addict over two cops!"

Trent looked at her, saw the steadfastness in her eyes and stance and conceded. "Alright. At least let me drive you to work, then, okay?" he asked.

She smiled as she agreed, and reached up to give him a kiss.

*****

An hour later, waving goodbye to Stevie in the Dunkin' Donuts' parking lot, Trent thought out his plan of attack for the Police Department - making the complaint with Detective Ryan, who always had a thing against Carlos, was the man to see and the way to go. Trent smiled in satisfaction and turned onto the main road.

*****

"Trent?" The name was spoken in a barely whispered rasp. "Trent?"

"Sssh... easy, Carlos."

Carlos managed to get his right eye open just a bit. Enough that the light in the room blinded him and caused him to wince and groan in pain. He groaned even louder as his sore and bruised face and chest protested the movements.

"Carlos? You with me?" Butch asked, laying a gentle hand on his young friend's hand.

"Unfortunately," he mumbled back.

Butch smiled sadly before pressing the call button for the nurse. They'd been waiting most of the night and morning for Carlos to show some signs of waking.

"God, I thought is was only a nightmare...Dios... Where's Trent? Butch?!"

"Hey, calm down now, Carlos, relax, you're just gonna hurt yourself," Butch soothed, getting worried as the heart monitors started beeping faster and seemingly louder as Carlos became more and more upset.

"Where's Trent? Butch? I gotta see him! I gotta talk to him!" It wasn't hard to hear the pain in his voice, to see the tears form in his eyes.

The nurse got there just in time to help Butch prevent Carlos from climbing out of bed. He fought against them, denying the pain his movements caused before a second nurse finally appeared with a sedative.

"Carlos, come on, calm down," Butch tried to reason. "You're gonna hurt yourself, son!"

"Butch, you gotta find Trent!" he got out just before the sedative took effect.

"We're tryin', Carlos, we're tryin'," he whispered.

*****

"Yes, I'd like to speak with Detective Ryan, please."

"Is he expecting you?" the desk officer asked.

"What do you want, Malloy?"

Trent turned and smiled as he met Ryan's gaze from behind the desk. 

"And don't try to snow me, Malloy. I caught Sandoval in here last week," the surly detective began. "If you're here trying to distract me so that he can sneak in somewhere else again..."

"No, sir, Detective. No snow job here," Trent replied, hands out. "But I _would_ like your assistance in filing a complaint against my former partner."

That piqued Ryan's interest, even if he _was_ still suspicious. "A complaint? Against Sandoval? Well, step inside my office, Mr. Malloy."

Trent followed Ryan down the hallway to his office and took a seat. 

"So what kind of complaint are we talking about, Malloy?" Ryan asked, taking out a piece of paper to write on.

"He and two officers in your department conspired to plant some illegal drugs on a friend of mine," Trent began. "They arrested her and beat her, of course calling it the result of resisting arrest."

"I don't like the idea of you accusing my fellow officers of false arrest and police brutality, Malloy, even if Sandoval is involved," Ryan responded. "You better have some hard evidence to back up your story. Starting with some names."

"A woman named Stevie, um, Stephanie Callahan was brought in here yesterday afternoon," Trent continued. "Officers Mark Leonard and Don Parsons planted some crack in her purse and then beat her up, breaking two ribs, I might add, before arresting her and bringing her here. According to Stevie, the officers mentioned Carlos as having planned it," Trent stated, recalling Stevie's frightening story.

"Leonard and Parsons, huh?" Ryan asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, sir."

Ryan began ripping up the paper he'd been taking notes on. 

"What's wrong?"

"Come with me," Ryan instructed, motioning to Trent with a curling finger. 

Trent followed him out to another office, watched as Ryan opened up a book and scanned down a list of names.

"Stevie Callahan?" he asked and Trent nodded his head. "Yesterday?" he asked, and got another nod.

"Stevie Callahan was not arrested yesterday. Take a look in the book," he added, turning the arrest logbook around and showing Trent the list of arrestees for the past two days. Seeing Trent's look of disbelief, he continued, "and if you'd like to meet Officers Leonard and Parsons, then have a good look on the wall out there, Malloy!"

Trent looked out toward the lobby, where Ryan had pointed and saw the memorial wall dedicated to officers killed in the line of duty. Slowly he walked toward it. And there, near the bottom, he saw two pictures and two names. Mark Leonard and Don Parsons.

"Stevie Callahan must have your dick wrapped around her little finger, Malloy, because even Sandoval isn't that low," Ryan commented.

*****

Ten minutes later Trent arrived at the Dunkin' Donuts. The manager told him that Stevie had quit her job, stating some personal problems. Ten minutes after that, he arrived at the her apartment building. He headed up to the third floor taking the stairs two at a time and knocked on the door. His guard came up instinctively when the door opened, having not been closed securely. 

"Stevie?" he called quietly, tip-toeing into the small efficiency apartment. 

The place was empty. And all of Stevie's belongings were gone.

"You Trent?"

Trent spun around quickly, startled by the voice from the doorway. An old woman stood there, leaning on a wooden cane.

"Yeah, I'm Trent," he replied.

"Stevie left this note for you. She said you'd probably be by today," she said, handing him a small envelope before heading back to the safety of her own apartment.

Trent slowly opened up the letter and began to read it. He never even realized that he had sunk down to his knees. By the time he finished reading the letter, there were tears in his eyes. "Carlos..."

*****

Walker sat in the waiting room, talking with Kim and Butch, asking again if Carlos had mentioned his attacker's name.

"Sorry, Ranger," Butch replied. "He was only awake for a minute, and he just kept callin' for Trent. He was real worried about him."

"And you still haven't been able to find him, either?" Walker asked.

"I'm really worried about him, too," Kim spoke up. "Whoever did this to Carlos _had_ to have taken Trent. But who?!"

"Ranger?" a nurse called from down the hall. "He's waking up again," she said.

Walker nodded his head and headed for Carlos's room. When he got there and took in the sight of his young friend, he shook his head. _Whoever did this was a pro_, he thought.

"Hey, Carlos," he greeted him, taking a seat next to the bed, so Carlos could see him better.

"Walker?" Carlos whispered, his voice rough. 

"Yeah, Carlos, it's me. I know you're not feeling too good right now, so I'll try to make this quick," he began. "Can you tell me who did this, and why?"

"Where's Trent? I gotta talk to Trent, first," Carlos replied, ignoring the questions.

"That would be my next question, Carlos," Walker responded. "But let's start with what happened to you, okay?"

Carlos nodded his head and began his statement, telling Walker what had happened in the office when he was attacked.

*****

Sitting on the floor of the empty apartment, Trent couldn't believe what he'd done. That he'd sunk so low. That he could have been suckered in by the likes of Stevie Callahan. That he'd hurt Carlos. He banged his head against the wall again. He pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket and turned it on. He hit the speed dial number for Carlos's apartment. Carlos wasn't there, but the answering machine picked up. 

"Carlos... I... God, Carlos... " he stammered, before finally whispering, "I don't know what to say," before turning the phone off. 

He called the office next and got the machine there, too. Finally, he called Kim, wondering if maybe she might know where Carlos was.

__

"Hello?"

"Kim? It's Trent," he began, but was interrupted by Kim's excited voice.

__

"Trent!! My God, are you okay?! We've been so worried!"

"I'm fine, Kim," he replied, confused by her concern. "Listen, have you seen Carlos? I really need to talk to him?"

__

"Carlos?! Trent, don't you know? Somebody beat him up. He's at Dallas General..."

"The hospital?!"

Trent couldn't believe what Kim was saying. Had he done that much damage? He though he'd only hit Carlos a few times, no more than during their usual sparring matches at the dojo... But, then he remembered the anger and rage he'd been feeling. He'd never been so angry with Carlos before in his life. And certainly he'd never used that angry energy against Carlos before...

__

"Trent? You there? Trent?"

"I'll be right there," he whispered and turned off the phone.

*****

Trent decided that approaching the hospital room was probably one of the hardest things he'd ever done. He desperately needed to see if Carlos was alright. Desperately needed to ask for Carlos's forgiveness. But he dreaded seeing what he had done. What damage his hands had done to his friend…and their friendship.

When he saw Kim and Butch sitting in the waiting room his heart nearly burst. How could he tell his friends that _he_ was the one that had done this to Carlos? And they'd been worried about _him_?

"Trent!" Butch greeted him, standing up and gathering the younger man into a bear hug. "So glad to see you're alright. We've all been worried about you and Carlos has been askin' about you every time he wakes up."

"I'm fine, Butch," he said, extricating himself from one hug, only to be grabbed and hugged by Kim. "Carlos has been asking about me?" he asked over Kim's shoulder.

"Yeah, the way the kid's been worried about you, we thought that maybe whoever did this to him had taken you or something," Butch replied. 

"Especially since we couldn't find you," Kim added, finally releasing Trent from her grasp.

"Did he tell you who did it?"

"Not yet, but Ranger Walker's in there with him now."

Trent suddenly felt weak in the knees. He sat down heavily on the couch and put his head into his hands. "How bad is he?" he whispered.

"Concussion, a coupla broken ribs, bruised kidney, dislocated knee, cuts and bruises," Butch listed.

"Oh, God," Trent cried quietly.

"But the doctors say he's gonna be just fine," Kim quickly added, seeing and hearing Trent's distress. 

She had hoped to continue soothing him by putting a comforting arm around his shoulders, but was surprised when Trent threw it off, standing quickly. He was just about ready to bolt for the stairs when Walker came out of Carlos's room and spotted him.

"Trent! Just the man I wanted to see!" he called, stopping Trent in his tracks.

"Walker? Carlos? Did he?" The words just came out of Trent's mouth, his fear and guilt leading the way.

Walker looked at Trent and the younger man's mixed emotions. He couldn't decipher them. He did, however, know someone that might. 

"I need to talk to you, Trent," Walker said, greeting Trent. "But I think you need to see Carlos, first. Come on, while he's still awake," he continued, grabbing Trent by the arm and leading him into Carlos's room.

*****

Trent stood stiffly at the foot of the bed, unable to move, unable to talk. He saw the bandages that covered Carlos's head and chest. Saw the deep bruises peeking out from underneath them. Saw the grotesque coloring and swelling surrounding the elevated knee. He couldn't miss any of that, or any of the tubes and wires connecting his friend, _no, former friend_, he corrected, to the medical monitoring equipment. He wanted to be sick. He wanted to run away and never come back. But he couldn't. Not with Walker just outside the door, probably ready to arrest him. And especially not since Carlos turned his head and saw him. Stared at him. Glued him to his spot. Trent waited for Carlos to speak. Waited for the yelling, the chastisement, the _'I told you so._' 

When Carlos didn't respond, Trent finally spoke up. "I don't have any other words to say, other than I'm sorry. I don't know how to make it up to you," he said. Still Carlos said nothing. The silence from the other man finally got to be too much for Trent. "Say something," he begged.

"Why?"

"I thought you had hurt her. She said you had some cop friends set her up. That they beat her, had her falsely arrested," he said.  


"Get out."

"Carlos?" 

"I said, get out!"

"I'm sorry, Carlos," Trent began again.

"What part of _get out_, don't you understand, Trent?!" Carlos shouted. "Or is that the part of your brain that also ignores your 'Karate is for defense only' rule?!"

If Trent had a reply to that, he couldn't say it. Carlos had shifted in the bed to try to get more comfortable but only aggravated his injuries, crying out as he grabbed onto the nurse's call button with one hand and his chest with the other. A nurse came into the room to check on Carlos and told Trent to leave.

*****

Walker was waiting for Trent as he left Carlos's room. Trent had trouble meeting the Ranger's eyes.

"So what did Carlos tell you?" he asked quietly.

"He never got a good look at the guy. Thought he might have been a jealous boyfriend or someone. Said he'd had a string of one-night stands lately. Unfortunately, we haven't got any other witnesses or evidence to ID anyone, either," Walker replied. 

"He didn't identify his attacker?" Trent asked, surprised and even more guilt ridden now, that Carlos hadn't told Walker who had really attacked him. Beaten him.

"No, but something's up," Walker answered, looking back at Carlos's room. "I think he really does know who did it, but for some reason, he doesn't want to ID him. Let alone press any charges. Any idea who he's protecting, Trent?"

"Yeah," Trent whispered and walked away, ignoring Walker's protests.

*****

Carlos relaxed into the warm feel of the pain medicine. It didn't take all the pain away, he still felt the dull throbs and aches in his chest and back, and especially in his knee. But what hurt the most was knowing Trent believed he would betray him that way. _Didn't he know that I would never do that to someone? That I fought against dirty cops when I was in the department. Got my ass kicked a few times by those dirty cops when I threatened to blow them in, or did. Doesn't he remember that at all? How could he have been so fucking blind to Stevie? How could he believe I would do that? _was the last thought he had before finally succumbing to sleep.

*****

Walker found Trent outside the hospital, sitting on a bench. He hadn't seen the young man cry in years.

"What's going on, Trent?" he asked gently.

"I'm the one," he replied, rubbing his hands down his face.

"You're the one for what?" 

"I did that to Carlos, Walker. With these hands," he continued, holding his hands out in front of him. "I almost killed him!"

"I don't understand, Trent," Walker responded. "You wouldn't, _couldn't_, do that to Carlos. Who are you two protecting?"

"Carlos is protecting _me_, Walker! I don't deserve it though. I've ruined everything we had."

Walker took a look at Trent's still outstretched hands, saw the bruises on them from a recent fight, and knew that Trent was telling the truth. That he really _had_ been the one to hurt Carlos. 

"Why?"

"I thought he had hurt someone I loved. I thought he and a couple of his cop friends set her up," Trent explained.

"Carlos would never do that," Walker replied.

"I know that!" Trent exclaimed, standing up. He began to pace in front of the bench. "God, I know that. But I had been so angry and so hurt and so damned blind that I couldn't see it!"

"So you wanted to hurt the person that hurt you."

"Yeah."

"So what happened to this friend of yours?" Walker asked.

"Stevie Callahan. I'd been seeing her for a few weeks, now," Trent began. "She's everything I'd ever wanted in a woman. Huh. She had me wrapped right around her finger," he added, shaking his head, thinking of Detective Ryan's remark. "Just like she planned."

"I don't understand."

"Carlos knew her," he said with a sigh, collapsing back onto the bench. "She's got a criminal record - drugs, prostitution, theft - he tried to warn me, but I wanted to give her a chance."  


"Nothing wrong with second chances, Trent," Walker interrupted.

"There was this time," Trent replied before continuing his story. "She called me yesterday, crying, told me that a couple of cops picked her up, planted some drugs on her and then beat her up, claiming she resisted arrest. She said she heard the two mention Carlos's name, that he'd planned it. I picked her up outside the precinct and took her to the hospital. She had three broken ribs and a couple of black eyes. I was so mad!"

"Then what happened?"  


"You saw the results," he replied, pointing his finger up toward the hospital's windows.

"Where's Stevie now?"

"I don't know. Skipped town, probably." He handed the note Stevie left him over to Walker. "I'd gone down to the precinct to file a complaint for her," he continued on, his voice monotone. "The names of the officers she gave me were Mark Leonard and Don Parsons," he looked up and saw that Walker had recognized the names. "Yeah, I found out who they were after I got there. She hadn't gotten arrested, set up, whatever. _I _was the one that _she_ set up." 

"All because Carlos, Leonard and Parsons were involved in the sting operation that she and her brother got caught in," Walker said, having read the letter.

"She'd told me about her brother. How he gave up evidence that got him off, but her convicted."

"So she wanted Carlos to know how it felt to be betrayed," Walker reasoned.

"Yeah," Trent responded. "So, are you going to arrest me?" he added, turning to Walker, presenting his hands to be cuffed.

"Carlos doesn't want you arrested, Trent. He would have told me the truth, if he did," Walker replied.

"He doesn't want me as a friend anymore, either. And I don't blame him."

"Did you explain to him what happened?"

"I tried, not that it matters," Trent replied. "He kicked me out."

Walker just nodded his head, putting all of the information together. Wondering how he could help salvage Trent and Carlos's friendship.

"I can't believe you're accepting this so calmly, Walker," Trent remarked, surprised at the Ranger's easy attitude.

"I never said I was accepting this, Trent," Walker replied. "I think what you did was wrong. One of the worst things a Karate master can do - let his anger rule his actions. But I have to respect Carlos's wishes right now. I also understand that Carlos wasn't the only one betrayed, here."

"So what do we do now?" Trent asked.

"Go find Stevie Callahan," Walker answered.

"She didn't commit any crime, Walker. All she did was lie to me. I'm the one that's guilty. I'm the one that hurt Carlos."

"I'm sure we can dig up something on her. Fraud, conspiracy, solicitation…" Walker replied.

"And assault for me?" Trent asked.

"Like I told you before, Trent, Carlos doesn't want to press charges. And I'm not going to go against his wishes."

"You should," Trent replied. "I had no right to do what I did to him."

"Let's leave that for now," Walker cut in, "and go find Stevie."

*****

The next morning, Trent went to the hospital again. He heard voices coming from Carlos's room. He knew he shouldn't eavesdrop, but he couldn't help listening in.

__

"Yeah, ah, shit that hurts… Yeah, the doc said my kidney function is improving, that it looks like it'll be okay. Fuck!"

"But the knee?"

"That's another story, ah, fuck… yeah, that's totally messed up. The guy really knew how to kick…shit."

"Easy, son. Relax now. That's it. So the orthopedist set the surgery up for Friday?"

"Yeah. Then I'm looking at six to eight months of physical therapy, minimum, she said. Ah, shit, Butch, you wanna hit that call button for me? I can't take this anymore."

"Sure, Carlos. No problem."

Trent couldn't go into the room now. Not after hearing the pain in Carlos's voice, his words. Hearing that he may have literally crippled his friend. Former friend. He was about to turn and leave when Butch came out of the room and saw him.

"Trent! Hey, good to see you. I'll be right back, I gotta go grab a nurse for Carlos, his call button ain't workin'. Why don't you go on in and keep him company for a spell," the big man rambled out, not even giving Trent a chance to refuse as he pushed Trent into the room.

Carlos looked to the doorway, hoping to see a nurse with some pain medicine in her hands. He was disappointed when he saw Trent standing there and made no attempt to hide it.

"Just wanted to see how you were," Trent stammered.

"I feel like shit," Carlos replied. "How about you?"

"About the same," the blond replied. "I got set up, Carlos. I know that's not an excuse for what I did. But it's the only one I've got right now."

Trent looked at the man in the bed, saw him trying to hold in all the pain and emotions. And despite what he had done, what he deserved to get because of it, Carlos had willingly lied to Walker, to save his sorry ass. Again. Surely there must be room for forgiveness in there for him. He hoped so.

"Carlos?"

Trent took a step closer, but was stopped by a hand raised in front of him.

"No. Just… go now. Please?" Carlos managed to get out as he tried pushing the call button on the bed again. "Just leave me alone now."

*****

Carlos stared at the ceiling. He had long ago figured out how many tiles there were. One hundred and twenty. He knew all about the medical history of his roommate, Mr. Harold Johansen. He probably knew more about it than Harold did, since Harold was sedated or unconscious half the time. The other half of the time he was delirious. 

This was his fifth day staying in the hospital. He was mildly surprised to find out that Trent had left right after he'd kicked him out two days ago. _Figured, Mr. Guilt trip would hang around 'til I got sprung_. He laughed sadly at himself, then. _God, I wanted to scream at him! I wanted to say I told you so, so bad! I wanted to punch him and kick him twice for every one he gave me. So why didn't you? Because that's not who I am. Who we are. Yeah, like you ever thought Trent would beat the shit out of you?_ Carlos kept up with his self-argument. Spent most of his day wondering why he didn't chew Trent a new asshole. But he knew the reason. It was why he was willing to give Stevie Callahan the benefit of the doubt. Because Trent always was and always will be his friend. That nothing would come between them. 

He was waiting for the orthopedic surgeon to arrive, to give him an update on his scheduled knee surgery, when the subject of his musings knocked on the door.

When Trent didn't come in right away, Carlos ordered, "Get your ass in here, Malloy." 

After a few awkward moments, Trent finally spoke up. "Walker found Stevie," he began. "She was selling some crack and meth down at Barnaby's, just outside the city."

"I'm sorry," Carlos replied.

"No. You were absolutely right about her. About me. I still can't tell you how sorry I am about what I did. I don't know how to make it up to you."

"You were trying to give her a second chance, Trent."

Trent stopped at the words. Had Carlos forgiven him? He didn't deserve forgiveness.

"That didn't give me the right to hurt you," he whispered. "I don't believe in revenge, Carlos. At least I thought I didn't."

"You did it because you're the good guy, Trent," Carlos continued. "Always Mr. Niceguy," he added, shifting in the bed to try to get more comfortable, only to wind up aggravating his injuries again. "Ah…fuck! …Maybe that's all I needed to hear, Trent," he got out. "For you to admit it. To say _you_ were wrong and _I _was right."

While Trent heard the humor in Carlos's voice, he also saw the seriousness in Carlos's eyes. He nodded his head. _ How often had Carlos been right about things, but I've refused to admit it? Because I'm a sorry son of a bitch that's always gotta have his way. Because I'm too proud to admit that my ways don't always work. _Then there was another knock at the door before a woman entered the room.

"Mr. Sandoval," she began, starting to pull some x-rays out of a folder. She stopped mid-motion then, noticing for the first time that Trent was in the room. She looked at Carlos, then at Trent and then back to Carlos. "Mr. Sandoval?" she questioned.

"It's okay, Dr. Field," Carlos assured her. "You can talk in front of Trent. He's going to be my chauffer for the next couple of months."

Trent beamed at Carlos, happy that their friendship was on the mend. But he knew it was still shaky. That he'd hurt his friend, and not just in the physical sense.

"Hey, what's a few extra miles on the 'vette between friends?" he replied.


End file.
